


heavy is the grieving heart

by lover_of_queens



Category: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Catharsis, Emphasis on the Sweet, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I may break your heart with this but I'll try and put it back together too, Multi, especially rodent stories apparently, the power of stories to heal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 12:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_queens/pseuds/lover_of_queens
Summary: "How can you ever forgive me.”It is not a question, because that would mean the asker anticipates a response. And there is no answer out there that will alleviate her of her guilt. The weight of death is no burden a sixteen year old should have to bear, but death is cruel to those who don’t know any better.And those that do."Or,They finally lay Farah to rest.
Relationships: Farah Dowling & Ben Harvey & Saul Silva, Farah Dowling/Saul Silva
Comments: 34
Kudos: 57





	heavy is the grieving heart

**Author's Note:**

> So, those of you who know me from my four thousand word analysis on tumblr about why Farah has to be alive, may be shocked to see this fic coming from me. I agree, I too am shocked! But once my angsty writer heart got ahold of this idea, I had to explore it and it honestly turned into something I wasn't expecting. 
> 
> Grief is something I have tremendous difficulty with and it's something this past year has brought up more frequently than I think any of us are comfortable with. I've always dealt with my feelings by telling stories and this fic is no different. Grieving is hard but I think it can be an opportunity for us to find a kind of common humanity and shared love even in the darkest of times. 
> 
> I very nearly called this fic 'what is grief but love persevering' . . . but I do think that the quote gets to what I hope is the heart of this work. The love that I have for Farah Dowling is immense and so, like Saul, I hope the words you read here will do her some justice. Enjoy!

“How can you ever forgive me.” 

It is not a question, because that would mean the asker anticipates a response. And there is no answer out there that will alleviate her of her guilt. The weight of death is no burden a sixteen year old should have to bear, but death is cruel to those who don’t know any better. 

And those that do. 

Saul tightens his tie in the mirror; it is already choking him - or maybe that is his grief - but he needs a moment before he can turn to face the fairy at his door. He tries to remind himself that she has lost much too. With a breath, he swivels and takes her in, red-rimmed eyes shockingly similar to the colour of her hair. There are deep bags underneath them. Bloom has aged far too quickly in these last few days. Yet, there is still a kind of hopeless innocence written across her features. A belief that it cannot possibly end like _this_. 

Saul does not know how to have this conversation. Farah would; she would open her mind and her heart and the forgiveness would flow forth freely. Saul demands it of his own conscience. He will not harbour resentment to someone who just did not know any better. And yet, the black twisting vines of grief threaten to swallow his better qualities whole. He wishes Farah was here. 

His eyes flick back to the mirror, the bed in the background; unmade on one side only. If he squeezes his eyes tight enough maybe when he opens them he’ll see her lying there. Hair fanned around her face, an easy smile spreading across her face as she beckons him back to bed. 

He wonders when he will stop waiting for her to come home.

“It is not your fault, Bloom.”

Much as he had anticipated, his words do not appease her. Because she does not believe him. He has the weight of the whole school’s grief on his shoulders, in addition to his own, and try as he might, he is not Atlas and he cannot bear the weight of the world forever. 

“But it is. I let Rosalind out, and then she -”

_Killed her_. 

There is no point in giving voice to painful words when both parties already know how the sentence ends. And for a moment both of them find comfort in that shared understanding. Farah’s funeral is in a few short hours and they will dance around the truth of it until they can no longer. Until they watch her casket being lowered into the ground, surrounded by everyone who loves her. 

The burial she deserves. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Saul says, wishing his words didn’t feel so stilted, so detached from him. He feels as they escape his throat, but he does not recognize the voice that says them.

“Miss Dowling, she- she told me that whatever Rosalind had to offer me wasn’t worth unleashing her on the world. Why didn’t I just listen to her? Why did I have to be so fucking stupid?” 

Bloom’s chest is heaving with guilt and truths that she’s never been able to say aloud before. Tears spilling from her cheeks onto the floor. Her pain trying its best to escape her body; there is not enough room for it all. So, Saul does what Farah would do in this situation. He pulls Bloom into him, the evidence of her grief soon staining the jacket of his suit. He is sure it will only be the first of many as the day drags on. 

Bloom had unlocked fairy magic that was thought to be long lost and yet she feels utterly fragile in his arms. A teenage girl who has lost her one guide in the world, just one moment away from shattering. Saul knows he owes it to Farah to make sure that never happens. Knows that although they lost Farah, her strength must remain. He just doesn’t know where to go looking for it.

There’s a knock at the door and Sky pokes his head in. Another young face who has lost too much in too short of a time. Saul thought he and Farah had been building a better Alfea, one that their students would not have to heal from. He cannot help but feel as though he has let them all down. Saul passes Bloom off to Sky and tries to pretend that he cannot hear the way her sobs echo as Sky leads her down the hallway. 

Saul walks over to his desk and pulls open the top drawer, reaching for the bundle of papers that lay there. His words are scribbled across them, water marks smudging the ink in numerous places. Other lines are just crossed out. Saul does not know how to find the words to pay the woman he loves ( _some things will always remain present tense_ ) tribute. But these words represent his best shot of something worthy of her. He cannot help but feel as though they are still not enough.

As he folds the papers and places them in the inner pocket of his suit, a glint of white catches his attention in the drawer. His fingers seek it out. It is a polaroid picture of him, Farah, and Ben on the night of their graduation, right after Saul had finished tattooing them all. He had promised then that it would bind them all together, forever. As he takes in the faded ink on his own finger, he doesn’t know whether his words are still true. 

“We were so young then,” Ben whispers over his shoulder and Saul jumps, he had not heard him enter. Saul passes the picture to Ben and he admires it for a moment before putting it back in the desk drawer. 

“It’s time to go.” 

Saul hears the truth of his words. _It’s time to let her go_. 

* * *

_Several days ago:_

They were in the woods, seven graves where there were once six. One had been dug up and the dirt was scattered everywhere in a haste. Even with the help of two Earth fairies, Saul had said _it was not fast enough_ and up to his forearms was streaked with mud. 

Terra had watched the light fade from his eyes when their worst fears were confirmed true. She had always thought that there was nothing that could ever get to Headmaster Silva; he was the picture of strength, of stability. 

He had not moved upon seeing Farah. His unblinking eyes were frozen on her unmoving chest as though if he only concentrated enough, he could will the breath back into it. Ben, upon seeing his best friend broken to the core, had taken up the mantle of strength. Had eased his other best friend into his daughter’s waiting arms, with the hope that maybe they weren’t too late.

Terra cradled her Auntie Farah’s body in her arms, placing a hand over Farah’s heart. A release of magic, followed by a tense pause. “I can’t feel her anymore, dad.” She looked up at her father, her lips trembling as they fought against the words she never wanted to say. “I can’t feel Auntie Farah.” 

Ben nodded once. Twice. He turned to face Saul and his hand went to Saul’s shoulder. The sudden touch seemed to bring him back to the present. 

“What’s the . . . verdict?” 

“We lost her, Saul,” Ben said, his voice broke with the weight of his words. “We lost our girl.”

The roar that erupted from Saul echoed through the forest for days.

* * *

Terra sits down on one of the plastic folding chairs by the gravesite. A midnight blue rose in her hands, no thorns. She twirls it over and over again as the memory replays in her head. The air is cold and when she exhales her breath forms a cloud. She had never really noticed all of the little things that proved she was alive before. And now, it’s all she can think about. 

Musa sits down next to her, Terra flicks her wrist and a new rose forms. She hands it to her suitemate. She wants to ask Musa how she’s doing. She wants Musa to ask how she’s doing. She’s really not sure if she can handle either answer. 

“I hate funerals,” Musa says. She has yet to meet Terra’s eyes and she digs the tip of her white shoe into the dirt. “Trying to sort through my own feelings is difficult enough without adding everybody else’s grief into the mix.” 

Terra looks up and meets eyes with the Headmaster as he shuffles towards them with her dad. Terra turns back to Musa and watches as her gaze lands on Mr. Silva, a dark purple flash in her eyes and suddenly the mind fairy is doubled over, her hand going to her chest.

“Are you okay?” Terra asks. Her voice is laced with concern as her hands seek out her friend to offer whatever little comfort she can. 

“Yeah,” Musa says, taking a deep breath before righting herself. “Miss Dowling was supposed to help me learn how to create mental shields to help block other people’s emotions.” 

Silence falls over them. Terra hates how much is going unsaid. 

“I can’t keep losing people like this, Terra.” 

When Musa finally turns to meet Terra’s eyes, Terra feels like she has been pulled into the past; the night burned ones attacked the school, and Sam was injured. When Musa had told her how she’d lost her mum just a year previously. Terra doesn’t need to be a mind fairy to imagine what this new loss has brought up for Musa. 

“Sometimes,” Musa whispers, looking around to make sure that nobody’s in earshot. “Sometimes I think I felt when it happened. This sudden pit of dread just unfurled in my stomach, but I thought it was just the aftereffects of the pain I’d taken from Sam. Terra, what if-”

Terra reaches for Musa’s hand. “Stop. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you keep letting yourself go down that path. I don’t think there’s a single person who doesn’t wonder if we’d be here if only we’d done something differently.” 

“She’s right,” Stella says, materializing from the air with a snap of her fingers. “Bloom blames herself for letting Rosalind out. I blame myself for convincing Bloom that it wasn’t a stupid idea. We can all play the blame game as much as we want, it doesn't change the fact that we’re all sitting here at her funeral.” 

“That’s . . . a slightly more upfront way of putting it than I was planning on,” Terra stammers out. She makes another rose and gives it to Stella, who takes it and sits down next to them. “How are you?” Terra asks suddenly. Stella’s princess composure seems to serve her well at moments like these. She’s the only one whose eyes are still dry, who can hold their back up straight. 

“Swell,” Stella says with a smile. “I’ve lost the one adult in my life who actually gave a damn about me. Who actually cared about properly rehabilitating my fucked up magic. And now my own mother is using this as an opening to try and lure me back to her clutches.” 

“I see we’ve moved into the anger stage of grief,” Musa says, leaning back in her chair. Her arms are crossed and one of her eyebrows raises. 

Stella looks at her and then at Terra’s downcast eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this coping with death thing very well.” A pause. “I just really miss her.” 

“I think we all do,” Aisha says, appearing with Bloom on her arm. Terra hands them two more roses as they settle in. The procession should be starting any minute now. 

“I’m really glad I took the position of her assistant when Callum . . .” Aisha trails off. Terra offers her a smile of encouragement; she just wants somebody to _talk_ about Auntie Farah. “She helped me through a lot in a couple weeks, made me realize that I didn’t always have to be the best at everything and that I was exhausting myself trying. She told me she’d be proud of me no matter what.” A tear rolls down her cheek, she doesn’t wipe it off. 

Terra wants to reach over to her but there are too many people in the way. “I know she’s proud of you. Of all of us.” 

“If I could have everyone’s attention . . .” 

* * *

Saul looks out at the sea of students, faculty, and friends from his position on top of the constructed stage. He is grateful for the podium that has been placed in the centre, he hopes it will hide his shaking hands. They’d held a larger memorial in the courtyard at school but it was agreed that a more private ceremony should accompany the burial. 

He is burying Farah. He is burying the love of his life beneath the earth and she is _never_ coming home. His nails dig into the wood of the podium. He cannot afford to fall apart when everyone is counting on him to be the strong one, to be the glue holding everyone else together. 

Farah was the only one he could truly fall to pieces in front of, who would see his tears and his fears and not think of him as weak or foolish. She’d hold him as the nightmares came night after night and never complain, pressing kisses to his sweat stained brow and holding his hand no matter how hard he squeezed. And he would do the same when she could not sleep at night for fear of being haunted by burning faces and wailing screams. They were just two broken people who felt something slightly closer to whole in each other’s arms. 

Sky places a hand on Saul’s back, steadying him. Saul had told him he didn’t need him to be up here, that he should be in the crowd with his friends. He is suddenly very grateful the boy has never been particularly good at listening to a word he says. 

“We get through this together,” Sky whispers, so just Saul can hear it. 

Saul clears his throat. “We get through this together,” he says to the crowd. He turns back to Sky and nods and Sky steps to the side. Saul understands that Sky will not leave him, it is his own way of coping. 

“Although Farah deserves much more, I shall offer a few words to send her off to her final place of rest. As I am sure you all know from your presence here, there is little else that compares to the magic of Farah Dowling. And I do not mean the magic that once flowed through her veins, but rather the love that lived in her heart. There are no words to describe her kindness, her compassion, her _sacrifice_ -” 

Saul catches his breath. “A few of us had been given the great honour of watching Farah grow into the woman you all knew her as. And there are many stories I could tell of our own teenage years spent at Alfea, but I think I will save those for another, more fitting, time. It was the honour of my life to serve as her Headmaster, but more importantly, it was the honour of my life to have simply known her.” 

Saul takes the rose that Terra had given him earlier and walks over the sleek dark brown casket holding his beloved. He places it on top and suddenly the weight on his shoulders increases; he does not know how to say goodbye. “I love you, Farah. Now and forevermore.” 

He steps back into Ben’s waiting arms and he can longer pretend at strength as the tears he has been keeping at bay finally make themselves known. Ben offers him a tissue and Saul takes it gratefully. 

“It should have been me.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted that.” 

Saul watches as her girls line up one after the other and place a rose on top of his. Eventually, there are so many flowers atop the casket that Saul can hardly make out the wood beneath. He hopes that Farah, wherever she is, knows how loved she is by all around her. As the casket is lowered into the earth he makes himself watch, it is the only way he will believe it is real. That she is gone. 

“I don’t know how to let her go, Ben.” 

* * *

When the sun sets, Saul makes his way to Farah’s room. He flips the light on and everything is as she left it. The room has been untouched for several days, and Saul has only now worked up the courage to walk into her sanctuary. 

He spends an hour going through her things, or at least the things he knows she would not have minded him touching. The rest of it he will save for another day when he is stronger. He finds a sweater on the floor of her closet and when he smells it he sinks to his knees. He had thought it would have been too much to hope for, but it still carries her scent. 

Ben finds him there and when Saul looks at his friend, he realizes he is in his pyjamas, a nightcap resting on the top of his head. Saul cannot help but smile. Ben was always complaining that his head got cold on a night and Farah had given the cap to him as a birthday present some years ago. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Ben says, offering Saul a hand to help him off the floor. 

“Came looking for me then?”

“Partly.” 

Saul understands. Ben is here for the same reasons he is. For a moment, in her room amongst all of her things, it is as though she is alive. An empty teacup on a table, an open journal on the desk, post-it notes stuck on the wall: all the things that should make the room feel haunted do anything but. 

Saul and Ben make their way into the living room and sit down on the couches. Soon enough Sky pokes his head through the door and Saul actually laughs when he sees his face. 

“Told you I wasn’t leaving you alone today, Silva.” 

“Then please be useful. There are hot chocolate packets in that cupboard over there on the left and you can set some water to boil.” Saul looks over at Ben and his friend gives him a thumbs up. “Three mugs. Cabinet by the sink.” 

“I think we might need a bit more than three mugs,” Sky says, stepping aside to reveal the girls, clad in their pyjamas with rolled-up sleeping bags underneath their arms. 

“The more the merrier,” Saul says, taking in Farah’s girls as they traipse into the room and get themselves comfortable. For the first time in a long time, his heart feels _full_ , and when he looks over at Ben and sees his glassy eyes, he knows he’s not the only one. 

Soon enough Sky is passing out hot chocolates - it turns out Bloom can warm things up much quicker than a kettle - with a side of the brownies that Terra baked earlier in the afternoon. Saul keeps quiet, mostly, he’s just happy to listen as laughter fills Farah’s rooms once more. 

“Hey, Mr. Silva,” Aisha says, turning around to face him. “Any chance we could get one of those stories you mentioned earlier?”

There are several echoes around the room expressing the same sentiment and suddenly everyone’s looking at Saul. He flicks through the multitude of stories he has, searching for something both fun and appropriate for his audience. 

Ben beats him to it. “One time, Farah turned Silva into a rat for Alfea’s Got Talent.” 

“I was going to pick a slightly less embarrassing tale, but I suppose that one will do.” 

Ben leads forward in the chair and Saul watches as the attention settles on him; Ben was always a natural-born storyteller. “So, one day Farah came to us and pleaded for a test subject for an experiment for Alfea’s Got Talent in our second year. It was our second year, right Saul? Anyway, she had designed this very elaborate obstacle course but none of the campus rats were smart enough to figure it out, so she figured if she turned one of us into a rat it would be easier. Saul would have jumped off a cliff for her, so he obviously said yes.”

“Did she win?” Bloom asks. Saul sees some of the tension has left her face. 

“Third place.” Saul chimes in. “And she never let me hear the end of it. While I was more competent than the rats scurrying around the school, I was apparently _‘not a very believable rodent_ ’.” 

“Which is actually where it gets quite funny,” Ben says. “You see she had no problem turning him into a rat. It was reverting him back to his human form that proved more challenging. I think he was stuck as a rat for about three days before she found the right spell.” 

“I still squeak sometimes,” Saul admits. 

For the first time today, he doesn’t mind the attention as he takes in the hopeful eyes and smiling faces around him. While Saul has lost people before, he realizes he had forgotten the power of stories to heal, to stitch back broken hearts.

Soon enough Musa puts on a playlist and the girls disappear into Farah’s closet one at a time. Musa comes out modeling a jacket that is much too big for her and sweeps the ground with every movement she makes. The kids find it hilarious and sure enough Saul and Ben look at each other and also burst into laughter. 

Good-natured bickering breaks out over who is going to get which of Farah’s necklaces, as well as her rings. Sky looks hopelessly lost, his eyes going to each of the girls in turn before looking back at Saul and mouthing something that looks a lot like the word ‘help’. Saul pretends not to notice, it’s much funnier watching his clueless face. 

Stella comes to sit next to Saul on the couch, there is something gold in her hand that glitters as it catches the light. She drops it onto Saul’s outstretched hand. “We all agreed that this one should be yours.” 

Saul flips the pendant over and etched into the back are the words ‘ _Farah, to the woman you will one day become. Saul’_. It was the necklace he had given her for her eighteenth birthday. He hugs it to his chest. “Thank you, Stella.” 

She squeezes his arm and then is off again. Her spot on the couch is quickly taken by Ben, who raises his mug to Saul. 

“To the woman she became.” 

Saul clinks his mug against Ben’s. “To the woman she became.” 

As Saul downs the last of his drink and looks around him as everybody starts setting up their sleeping bags, he thinks he finally understands. He never had to go looking for Farah’s strength, it lives on in all of the people around him. In their laughter, in their smiles. Their joys and sorrows. Farah could never really be _gone_ because they all had a piece of her in their hearts. 

“Alright kiddos,” Ben says, flicking off the lights. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.” 

Soon enough all of the breathing in the room evens out as everyone drifts off to sleep. The glow of the moon filters in through the curtains, casting her cool light upon all of them. For the first time in a long time, their faces are at peace. 

Farah stands in the doorway, although the word 'stands' implies a permanence she no longer has, and watches them as they sleep. She had been worried about how her boys and girls would move on without her there to help guide them. But as she takes in their forms, all bunched up against each other, she _knows_. 

They will get through her loss as they got through everything else. Together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, that was a bit of a rough one! If you've made it to the end then know how grateful I am that you've let me take you on this journey. If anything writing this has only further proved to me that Farah has to be alive in season 2. 
> 
> Thank you <3


End file.
